The Centaurians were as eager to set these secrets as—well, as had been the Russians during the first phase of the atomic era when the world was divided into two frightened and belligerent camps. Strange, Kendall thought, that he should think of that period. The world had long since become one frightened and belligerent camp but the problem of survival had greatened as advanced science had opened the starways.
"I said—lock the door!"
Kendall complied. As he returned to his desk, he sensed the man was smiling behind his mask. What was he? A Centaurian? Either that or a Terran. Certainly not a Venusian unless he was standing on a box.
"Sit down."
"All right. Let's get on with it."
"In my own good time. First, let me sympathize with you on your love for your wife."
"What sort of idiocy are you talking about?"
The man ignored the question. "You are unique in that love, Mr. Kendall. We conducted a telepathic survey of every married scientist in this project. And only one psych-pattern was suited to our purpose."
Kendall scowled. "I think you are enjoying this—but I'm not. And believe me, you'll live to regret it."
"We were fortunate in finding you, Mr. Kendall—the one man here who would be incapable of allowing his wife to die horribly if he could prevent it—no matter what the cost."